


Karma is a Biest

by shadowolfhunter



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Adalind is furious, Alfresco, Gratuitous Smut, Growling, Juliette is furious, M/M, Nick's friends are horrified, Sean is smug (even more than usual), and Diana likes it., drunk off his ass, drunken punch ups, scenting each other, woging
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-19 16:17:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9450002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowolfhunter/pseuds/shadowolfhunter
Summary: (AU) Following Nick's shenanigans with the dreaded hat of shape-shifting doom (what the heck is that thing made of anyway?) things start to change for him. Following a very scary bathroom woge, Nick panics when he realises that adopting Renard's form might have saved his life, and yanked them all back onto neutral ground, but it's had a very unfortunate effect on Nick personally.Not really wanting to find out what Adalind is going to say, Nick goes out. Somehow he ends up on Sean Renard's doorstep...





	1. Biest Bite Back

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, my smutty awkward little brain went there... This is strictly for the giggles, and the possibilities (and lots of smut).

It started as a tingle when Nick was shaving. At first he thought he had scraped the skin, but something seemed to shimmer, and as Nick stood there, razor halfway to his face, before his horrified gaze the skin of his jaw and the corner of his mouth seemed to change, pulling back to reveal even white teeth as his skin altered appearance, into something reddish and rotting, it took the blurring of his vision on his right eye before he realised that the upper right half of his face was changing too.

It might have been his imagination, but the touch of his fingers to the unspeakably misshapen side of his mouth and jaw told him the truth.

He, Nicholas Burkhardt, had just woged. He stared at himself, disbelief and horror warring with a rage he had never felt, even at the height of his anger at Sean Renard.

_Sean Renard._

"Nick... Breakfast is ready." Adalind's voice dragged him back from the edge.

Adalind. _Shit!_

He shook his head frantically. Getting nowhere. Trying to recall Rosalee's lessons in woging. With an effort of will he calmed himself. Wesen headshake. No half-zauberbiest in view.

"Er.. I have to go now." He pulled himself together with an effort, and grabbed his clothes. "Text from Hank," he waved his phone at her, dashing past.

Ignoring Adalind's confused pout, he made sure his gun was holstered, and headed out to his vehicle. Pausing to text Hank that he would be late, he tore out of his parking place.

 

Some noise woke Sean from his heavy slumber, he took a moment to recognise that he was still mostly dressed from yesterday, shirt, stained and wrinkled, suit pants, jacket and tie on the floor, back aching, significant pain all over his body, fighting his woged self had exhausted him far more than he was prepared to admit. Nick may have had to negotiate a much larger body, their six inch height difference was far from insignificant, but Nick was several years younger, and Nick was also burning with rage. Which Sean should have been, but was curious to find that he was not.

He tried to summon the ghosts of his tattered ambition, and found them missing. Which might have had something to do with the fact that, as he crawled to hands and knees, he had to push aside two empty vodka bottles. Or it might have been because Sean was forty-three, had been running for thirty years and somewhere deep inside, he just wanted to surrender.

Which was not like him at all.

But Meisner.

_oh god..._

The memories, crowding in, watching Meisner dying at Bonaparte's hand, perhaps Sean's last flicker of decency, not wanting the man to suffer any more. Taking his life.

Meisner sitting there, in front of Sean.

Sean had fallen down a fresh bottle of premium vodka, but that was not enough to wash away the memories. So he opened a second. At some point he'd dragged himself to bed.

Still not enough. He crawled shakily to his feet and headed for the third bottle. Day off, housekeeper not coming in. He could drink all day if he wanted.

 

Nick pulled into Renard's spare parking space outside his house. Renard's vehicle was there. Which most likely meant that Renard was home. Without thinking, Nick parked, locked his vehicle, took the few steps to the front door and rung the bell.

The door was yanked open.

Nick lunged.

 

Renard stumbled back, the haymaker punch slamming into his face, his legs gave out on him and he sat down with a thud.

"YOU!"

Renard's drink-addled brain registered Nick's voice. He didn't know what Nick had to be so angry about it, Nick had won, Sean's future was back to uncertain. All his dreams were ashes, and it really should be him angry at Nick. He tried to surge forwards, forgetting that he was sitting on the floor, reeling back from the fist that slammed into his face for a second time.

"This is your fault!" Nick growled. And something seemed to be terribly wrong with his face, Sean stared, trying to recognise where he had seen that before.

Slowly he caught up to speed. The face staring into his was like his own, Sean gulped, reached out a finger to touch the woge in front of him.

Nick growled.

Something primal in Sean reacted, woging with ease, he growled back. Nick stopped.

 

It was strange and wrong, and .... Something coursed through Nick's soul, pulling hard on his restrained impulses, he leaned in, and growled again, Sean's head tilted a little as he leaned in towards Nick's neck. He sniffed.

Without moving an inch, Nick sniffed back.

Something flooded his senses, a scent so powerful that it hummed in the air.

Want.... Need.... SEX!


	2. Buyers' Remorse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick wakes up in a place he cannot believe he is.

Nick's head was pounding, every single inch of him ached, especially his ass, and....

Nick sat up. The heavy warmth beside him wasn't his imagination. The room was not his own. And... _oh shit!_ He lifted the covers. Naked!

Quickly and very carefully he scrambled away. Sean grunted and flopped on his side into the space left by the Grimm Zauberbiest. _Oh crap!_ He was half a zauberbiest now. Thanks to Sean Renard. He scowled at his nemesis. Sean grunted again, and nuzzled the pillow where Nick's head had been only moments before, Nick had to get out of there, now.

He grabbed his scattered clothes, and beat a hasty retreat.

Throwing his clothes on, Nick slipped out of Sean's house, using the slight incline of the parking space and the road itself he allowed his truck to coast backwards before firing up the engine. Then he peeled out of there like the hounds of hell themselves were running after him.

Nick's very inconvenient memory chided him every inch of the way... _You slept with Renard!!_

 

Sean groaned, his body was one deeply pleasurable ache, including his ass. He kept his eyes closed savouring the feeling. It had been a very long time since he had had such wild and uninhibited sex...

SEX!

Sean opened his eyes and sat up. He had slept with the Grimm. The architect of Sean's personal misfortunes. Sean's near picture perfect memory recalled the entire thing in hideously detailed clarity.

Blindly Sean put out his hand. By some miracle of fate the partially consumed bottle of Vodka stood, undamaged, on the bedside table. Barely acknowledging to himself that it had been an even longer time since he had indulged in Vodka for breakfast, Sean took a big swig.

 

Nick swung by his loft. By some chance of fate, Adalind was out. Which was a good thing because Nick had no idea how he was going to tell her. The zauberbiest thing paled into insignificance next to the wild, incredibly hot sex with Renard. He didn't just think that.

Nick shook his head. Apparently, shape-shifting, half-zauberbiest curses came with a side order of distinctly crazy. If he laid hands on that hat he was going to burn the damn thing.

He jumped in the shower, scrubbed himself all over, wrapped himself up in a big towel and went to rummage through his clothes for something to wear, considered burning what he had been wearing yesterday, while trying to find something that looked nothing like the previous day's clothes.

It never happened.

 

"Are you drunk?" The Chief of Detectives eyed his Homicide Captain. After everything that had gone down, with Renard hauled in for murder, and his almost unhinged pursuit of his detectives, the Chief was at something of a loss to know exactly what to do with Sean. Clearly the man had snapped a little, which at this time of unrest was a damn tragedy for the city.

Sean looked down at his hands, he processed alcohol faster, so in the strict letter of the law, he was under the legal limit, and as much as he hated any kind of weakness in full view of others, he realised that he'd just been offered an out by his boss. Fake a little illness, and give him a moment to regroup.

"No. Not exactly, sir." Renard leaned forward and choosing his words carefully, began to dig himself out of his lousy situation.

The Chief listened. Renard had always been one of the smartest of his Captains, now his explanation of overwork, fears for his daughter's safety, the unfortunate results of his former girlfriend's attempt to come between Sean, his former fiancée and his daughter. Even Nick's role as the father of Sean's fiancée's young child.

The man needed rest. And whether he liked it or not, some therapy appeared to be in order.

"Take the week, get your head together and you will need to see the department psychologist for a while."

That Renard definitely didn't want to do. He opened his mouth to protest. "I mean it Sean. This is mandatory."

Sean got to his feet, he would figure a way out of that one somewhere else.

Halfway down the stairs he realised that despite everything, he felt lighter. On the landing, he pulled off his tie.

 

Nick was on his way up to the bull pen when he passed Renard going the other way. The man didn't even look at him.

Nick took in the slightly dishevelled appearance, the tie hanging out of the zauberbiest's trenchcoat pocket, the puzzled look on the man's face, and frowned. What? Renard passed the turn for the corridor and kept going.

Nick ground to a halt. Something deep inside him shivered. Nick clamped down on that feeling. Worried about Sean Renard, that would never happen.

He headed straight to his desk, head held high, put his worries and the whole zauberbiest thing away for a while. Get back to work. Where he belonged.


End file.
